The Misheard Prophecy working title
by UndiscoveredSpecies
Summary: "Blood will shake the Clan to its roots. Beware a warrior with a familiar face but an unfamiliar heart." This is the ominous prophecy delivered to Buzzardstar of SmokeClan. Enter Redpaw, eager foundling apprentice, and follow his tragic and thrilling journey as his leader descends into madness and the prophecy comes true. (T to be on the safe side)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Buzzardstar tilted his head back, dark gray eyes fixed on the scattering of stars that freckled the sky. "Owlstream," he called softly, the tip of his long scarred tail twitching back and forth as the only sign that betrayed his inner agitation.

A lithe tom pushed his way from the fern-draped entrance of his fallen log den. The moonlight made his silver tabby fur glow with an otherworldly light as he padded silently across the sandy ground to leap gracefully to the top of the colossal stump that jutted up from the ground. "Yes, Buzzardstar?"

"Has StarClan spoken to you recently?" The leader asked, not moving his gaze from the shining expanse of Silverpelt.

"No, Buzzardstar," Owlstream confessed, ducking his head and muffling a sneeze as a breeze whispered over the silent camp. "Have you had a sign?"

"I believe so." The long-haired tortoiseshell jumped down from the stump, landing in a soft spray of sand. "Come with me; we need to talk."

Owlstream leaped down beside him, landing in a crouch to absorb the shock through his sturdy muscles. "What is it? What have our ancestors showed you?"

"Not here," Buzzardstar answered cryptically, not looking at the glossy-pelted medicine cat as he trotted quickly away from the camp, his bushy tail held high. "Follow me."

Owlstream cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder but obeyed his leader nonetheless, his pawsteps as noiseless as the deepening dark that stole over the land. The two cats made their way in silence, and Owlstream knew that whatever had happened, it was serious, for even though it was the last lingering days of leaf-fall, Buzzardstar did not stop to hunt even when a temptingly fat squirrel nearly ran right across his paws. He pushed his way through a thick clump of shrubbery, not seeming to notice when the prickly branches caught and tugged at his long fur. Owlstream shoved his way after him, wincing as the wooden claws scraped through his pelt.

Buzzardstar didn't stop until he sat at the base of an enormous pine tree that stood several feet apart from the surrounding forest in all directions; it was as though the rest of the life in the forest scarcely dared to grow close to this massive giant. "Sit," he invited.

Owlstream sank onto his haunches and wrapped his tail over his forepaws. "What is it?" He panted, leaning down to lick a scratch on his chest, courtesy of the prickly bushes.

"StarClan visited me in a dream," Buzzardstar said, raising his head and looking again at the stars strewn through the blackness above. "Our warrior ancestors were in a state of terrible distress."

Owlstream caught his breath. "Why?"

"Swampstar spoke to me," Buzzardstar went on as though his medicine cat had not spoken. "His exact words were 'Blood shall shake your Clan to the roots.'"

Despite hearing the words from StarClan, Owlstream couldn't help but feel a little irritated that he had been roused from his cozy nest just for that. "What do you think it means?" He asked, hiding his feelings.

"After Swampstar's words, I heard the bone-chilling cry of a cat," Buzzardstar told him. "It echoes in my ears even now..."

"What sort of cry was it?" Owlstream prompted gently.

"Terrible to hear," Buzzardstar sighed, his ears slumping to the sides in weariness. "Full of grief and agony, almost like the sound Hazelpelt made when she lost her kit..."

Owlstream couldn't hold back a shudder, shivering from nose to tail. "That cry haunts my dreams," he confessed, crouching lower to the forest floor, ignoring the prickle of pine needles against his pads. Eager to move from the topic of death, he looked up into Buzzardstar's gray eyes. "Did Swampstar say anything else?"

"Not Swampstar, but Whimbrelpelt," Buzzardstar supplied. Owlstream nodded, remembering the beautiful tan queen who had been the deputy Gullclaw's mentor. "She told me to beware of an untrustworthy cat, one whose face is familiar but whose heart is not."

"Ominous words," Owlstream murmured. Silence fell, stretching over the forest like ice stealing over a river, before the silver tabby dared to pose another question to his leader. "Do you have any idea who that might be? I can't think of any cat that would want to tear SmokeClan apart..."

"Neither can I, Owlstream," Buzzardstar sighed. He threw a glance upward at the splinter of moon that glowed coldly up in the sky. "We should head back," he meowed at last.

Owlstream nodded, only too glad to make his way back toward his warm nest; cold was seeping up through the pads of his paws, chilling him just as much as the enigmatic prophecy from his warrior ancestors.


	2. Chapter 2

Redpaw bounded out of the apprentices' den, stretching his hind legs behind him and reveling in the sensation of strength and life flowing through his young body. Leafbare had hit, yes, but so far it had been a mild one with only a soft crust of frost sprinkling the empty brittle branches of the trees overhead. He flicked his ears and opened his mouth to let the crisp dawn air flow over his scent-glands. He could smell Blizzardpelt and he looked over to see the snow-white warrior sitting in a patch of weak sunlight, eyes closed.

"Hi!" Redpaw bounded over to her.

She blinked to reveal startling green irises and her long whiskers twitched in amusement. "Up at dawn as always," she commented and Redpaw's tail-tip twitched happily.

"I like to be up early," he explained quickly. "Then I can go on patrols and hunt and keep an eye out for intruders!"

Blizzardpelt let out a mrrow of musical laughter. "You're easily the eagerest apprentice I've ever seen," she told him, a gentle sparkle in her eyes. "The rest are all still asleep, aren't they?"

"Lazy furballs," Redpaw agreed with a glance over his shoulder.

"I don't suppose you can blame them too much," Blizzardpelt mewed fairly. "It is cold outside."

"Hornetpaw has a thicker pelt than I do, and she's still snoring like a badger," Redpaw scoffed. "You can bet that her mentor will leave on patrol without her!"

"I doubt that," Blizzardpelt said, tilting her head at him. "Speaking of mentors, you'd better go find yours!" She leaped to her paws and chased him toward the warriors' den with a goodnatured growl. Redpaw managed not to squeak like an excited kit as he bounded across the cold sand of the clearing. He slowed to a trot and then a stop, tail twitching, as he cautiously nosed aside the tangle of long grass and ivy that tumbled untidly over the entrance. Warm air struck his face as he pushed his head into the den, eyes searching through the lumps of fur that rose and fell serenely with the steady breathing of easy sleep. "Falconstripe," he hissed.

A tawny head raised itself from a nest of leaves and moss, blinking blearily. "Get out of here, Redpaw," Pheasantcloud grumbled. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Redpaw backed out of the den apologetically and sat outside, unsure what to do with himself now. It was his very first real day as an apprentice and he was yearning to do something, now that he was no longer confined to the camp like a bothersome kit. He glanced toward the fresh-kill pile in time to see Volefoot drop a fat squirrel onto it. The pale tabby gave Redpaw a friendly twitch of his ears before padding back out of the camp to collect the rest of his prey. Redpaw chased after him. "Volefoot, wait!"

Volefoot stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "What is it, Redpaw?"

"Can't I come with you?" Redpaw asked, skidding to a halt. "Falconstripe won't be up for ages and I want to be useful to the Clan!"

Volefoot's whiskers twitched in amusement. "You should still be asleep," he pointed out. "Falconstripe doesn't let his apprentices off easy with their training, after all!"

"Good," Redpaw meowed firmly. "Besides," he added slyly, "you can go to sleep sooner if you let me come with you to help collect your prey..."

Volefoot flicked Redpaw with his tail. "You're too clever for your own good," he said with a touch of mock anger in his mew. "But all right. Come on."

"Yes!" Redpaw leaped straight up into the air and pelted out between the enormous mossy boulders that stood guard over the entrance to the camp.

"Hey!" Volefoot bounded in front of him and turned quickly so Redpaw cannoned straight into his side. "You follow me, understood? Otherwise I'll chase you back to the apprentices' den myself!"

Redpaw dipped his head meekly. "Yes, Volefoot."

"Besides, you don't want to tire yourself out running for already dead prey before Falconstripe's even got a chance to work you over," Volefoot went on, trotting through the bushes with his jaws parted to take in the scents of the forest. "When Spidertail was still Falconstripe's apprentice, she would stagger into the den complaining about how she felt like she was about to break into pieces, she was so tired."

"Falconstripe doesn't scare me," Redpaw insisted.

"Nor should he," Volefoot said with a faint note of surprise. "But you should respect him; Gullclaw only surpassed him as choice for deputy because he had hurt his shoulder and Owlstream wasn't sure if he'd recover."

"How was he hurt?"

"Chasing a badger away from the nursery," Volefoot said, pausing to scrape at a mound of earth to reveal a mouse. Redpaw darted forward and picked it up in his jaws, the scent making his mouth water though he dared not bite into it. "The badger tore his shoulder badly, and when the fever set in, Owlstream wasn't sure if he would survive the attack or not. Your mentor was incredibly brave, and he saved Coonpaw's life."

Redpaw's eyes widened at the mention of his friend. "Really?" He asked past the body of the mouse, thinking of how terrible life would surely be without the gray and brown apprentice.

"Really," Volefoot answered, scooping out a squirrel from where he had stashed it in a hollow beneath a holly bush. "Let's take these back."

Redpaw turned and began to trot back toward the twin boulders, mouth watering as the mouse's body rested in his teeth. It took all his discipline not to crunch down on it, but he controlled himself enough to lay it down on the fresh-kill pile, next to a sparrow.

"Redpaw," called a voice from the warriors' den.

Redpaw turned quickly to see Leechfur walking toward him, twitching her gray and white pelt as though to shudder sleep off like water. "Falconstripe says to eat something while he goes to talk to Buzzardstar. As soon as he's done, he'll take you out for training."

"Okay," Redpaw chirped happily, shoving his muzzle into the fresh-kill pile and pulling out a mouse made fat from consuming leaf-fall's seeds. He sunk his sharp teeth into it and closed his eyes blissfully as the taste flowed over his tongue. His stomach churned as though filled with excited butterflies and he devoured the mouse in a few gulps, swiping his tongue around his jaws to glean the last splashes of flavor from his fur. Redpaw looked around to see Falconstripe's dark brown tail disappearing into Buzzardstar's den and began to knead the ground impatiently with his claws. "Come on," he groaned, lashing his tail back and forth.

It felt like the entirety of leaf-bare had passed before Falconstripe strode from the massive log, the ferns that covered the entrance brushing lightly along his back. "Redpaw," he called. "Are you ready?"

"I've been ready!" Redpaw exclaimed, bounding eagerly over to his mentor.

"Well, you'll just have to wait longer," Falconstripe meowed calmly, "because I don't plan to go traipsing from here to Silverpelt on an empty stomach!"

Redpaw groaned loudly, buckling his legs theatrically as he fell onto his side.

"Get up," Falconstripe told him gruffly, padding over to the fresh-kill pile and settling down with a sparrow. "The first thing I'm going to teach you is discipline. SmokeClan has no room for jokers."

"Tell that to Stagpelt," Redpaw retorted, leaping to his paws. "He hardly ever takes anything seriously but he's one of Buzzardstar's favorite warriors!"

"That's because Stagpelt knows that there is a time and a place for clowning around," Falconstripe growled, tearing a bite from the sparrow. His golden eyes flashed. "Now go make yourself useful and tell Buzzardstar that I'm going to take you on a tour of the borders before giving you some battle training."

"Both of those today?" Redpaw asked, his eyes widening.

"Did I stutter?" Falconstripe asked, his stern tone inviting no room for sass. Redpaw turned tail and ran across the clearing, his small paws throwing up sand in his wake. "Buzzardstar," he called as he neared the leader's den.

The tortoiseshell tom's face pushed through the curtain of ferns. "What is it, Redpaw?" He asked.

Redpaw quickly passed on his mentor's message and Buzzardstar nodded. "Very well," he said simply before brushing past Redpaw. The apprentice stared at his battle-scarred pelt, clumps of long fur missing as signs of old injuries.

"Redpaw!" Another voice called to him from near the apprentices' den and he turned to see Coonpaw waving her tail excitedly back and forth. He padded over to her and her blue eyes sparkled at him, shining like sapphires as the wind ruffled her gray and brown fur. "Redpaw, are you excited?"

"More than I've ever been," Redpaw meowed enthusiastically. "What was your first day of training like?"

"It was only four days ago," Coonpaw reminded him with a laugh.

"Yes, but still!"

Coonpaw dipped her head to lick her ruffled chest fur. "Newtflower showed me our borders and then let me hunt. I caught—"

"A rabbit," Redpaw finished excitedly. "It was as big as you were!"

"Redpaw!" Falconstripe's voice boomed from across the clearing. "Are you coming or are you going to stand there all day, gossiping like a queen?"

"Later, Coonpaw!" Redpaw mewed excitedly, twitching his tail in farewell before he sprinted across the sandy clearing.

Falconstripe looked down at Redpaw as his apprentice skidded to a halt. "Let's go," he meowed firmly, turning to trot out between the mossy boulders. Redpaw scampered after him, tail held high in excitement. "Which way are we going to go first?"

"That way," Falconstripe pointed with his nose down a steep slope covered in grasses and wildflowers. Tempted to sprint off through the undergrowth to discover the wonders of his territory, Redpaw only just caught himself in time. He stayed obediently at Falconstripe's side, glancing at the older cat every few steps.

"What can you smell?"

Redpaw opened his jaws and sucked in a deep breath of fragrant forest air. "I can smell SmokeClan," he answered, twitching his tail toward the camp. "And, let's see...prey. Birds, mice, and I think a squirrel."

"Good," Falconstripe nodded. "See if you can find your own way along the borders."

Redpaw looked up at Falconstripe, his eyes wide. "But, but," he stammered. "I've never been out of the camp before!"

"That's no excuse," growled Falconstripe. "The dawn patrol returned just before we left; they'll have put fresh markers in place. Look for those."

Only somewhat reassured, Redpaw lifted his head and sniffed again. "I don't smell anything," he worried aloud.

"Then move your legs, apprentice," Falconstripe hissed. "Scents aren't going to come over to roll on your paws!"

Cowed by his mentor's harsh approach, Redpaw began to creep through the bushes and grass, conscious of his nearly crimson fur contrasting harshly with the greenery. He paused frequently to scent the air. His stomach twisted with a bad case of nerves with every second that slid by, his heart beating harder when he still couldn't find a scent.

Just when he was about to give up and plead Falconstripe for help, he caught the faintest whiff of Foxheart, a clever ginger queen. "I smell Foxheart," he declared proudly.

Falconstripe nodded approvingly. "Good," he praised.

Encouraged, Redpaw trotted toward the scent, spirits rising as it grew stronger. Foxheart's scent mingled with that of Fawnleap, Rivertail, and Rabbitkick. "I found the patrol," he announced, gesturing with his tail to a willow-sapling that had been scent-marked by Rabbitkick. He dropped down to lap quickly at the cold creek that the willow grew near.

Falconstripe bowed his head to take in the scents more closely. "So you have," he meowed. "Very well, Redpaw, keep going."

Both unnerved and pleased by his mentor's supposed faith in him, Redpaw padded along, keeping his mouth open to follow the scent-trail. The smells of the cats led on a winding path through the forest, over logs and under low-hanging branches until he paused, confused. The scents of more cats, which had been faint before, suddenly grew stronger. "Falconstripe?" He mewed uncertainly.

"We've reached the border that we share with RidgeClan," Falconstripe explained. "Here, jump up onto that branch." He pointed with his nose to a nearby tree, springing easily up to land on the rough bark. Redpaw wriggled his haunches and hurled himself upward, stretching his forelegs as far as he could to catch hold of the branch, but his chest slammed into the wood and his hind legs kicked uselessly at the air until Falconstripe's teeth met in the scruff of his neck, hauling him to safety. "Next time climb up the trunk to get to the branch if you can't make it on your own," Falconstripe told him, "or I'll get Buzzardstar to change your name to Shortlegs."

"Sorry," Redpaw mewed sheepishly. "What did you want to show me?"

Falconstripe turned his head, twitching his ears. Redpaw stretched his neck and just saw the bumpy spine of a ridge poking through the empty spaces between the tree branches, far to the east. "Is that where RidgeClan live?"

Falconstripe nodded. "Learn their scent, apprentice," he advised, leaping gracefully from the branch. Redpaw, remembering Falconstripe's halfhearted threat to change his name, inched downward along the trunk. "Whoa!" He yelped, suddenly slipping and tumbling head over paws to land at Falconstripe's feet.

"Graceful," Falconstripe snorted.

Feeling his face warm with embarrassment, Redpaw scrambled upright and shook the pine needles from his fur. "Where are we going next?"

"We'll follow this border," Falconstripe decided, "and then when we reach the ledge, we'll turn onto a different path."

"What is the ledge?" Redpaw asked quizzically.

"You'll see," his mentor answered. He broke into a trot and Redpaw followed him, the sunlight streaming down through the trees to warm his pelt. They padded on in silence, Redpaw's steps crunching over the fallen leaves whereas Falconstripe seemed instead to almost float over the slightly sloping ground. He twitched his ears self-consciously whenever his mentor cast a look over his shoulder at him, every footfall seeming louder than the last.

Falconstripe led the way through the forest until they came to a point where the ground seemed to disappear. Redpaw stopped. "Where did the ground go?" He asked, staring in amazement several fox-lengths ahead.

"That's the ledge," Falconstripe said patiently. "Come on." He began to walk toward it but stopped when Redpaw didn't follow. "There's no reason to be afraid," he said. "The ground isn't going to eat you, you know."

"But...but it's gone!"

"Only for a short distance," Falconstripe meowed, walking back toward Redpaw and giving the apprentice's flank a small push. "Go on!"

Redpaw crept slowly toward the place where the ground disappeared, inching along with his crimson belly fur skimming the forest floor as he gingerly placed one paw in front of the other. He peeped over the edge to see, with relief, that the ground had not in fact vanished entirely; a tiny cliff had formed and the territory continued down below. Redpaw sighed in relief, his tense shoulders relaxing.

Falconstripe glanced down at him with an amused purr. "Why are you stopping? We still have a lot of ground to cover." To Redpaw's astonishment, Falconstripe simply leaped off the ledge, landing lightly on a large, jutting rock down below.

Determined not to show fear, Redpaw braced himself and jumped, half-slithering and half-falling down the hard-packed dirt of the cut-away earth, landing in a tangle of paws and tail next to the boulder.

"Truly, I have been blessed with a graceful apprentice," Falconstripe mewed sarcastically.

Redpaw scrambled up, feeling the heat of a blush beneath his flaming pelt. "I'm fine," he meowed quickly. "Let's keep going!"

Redpaw trudged into the apprentices' den and collapsed into his nest, his limbs trembling with exhaustion. Coonpaw popped her head into the entryway. "Tired?" She purred.

"Go away," Redpaw moaned.

"Falconstripe work you over well?" She took another step inside, her whiskers twitching as she swiped her tongue around her jaws like she had just finished a succulent piece of prey.

"Did he ever," Redpaw groaned, shifting painfully. "We explored the territory until I felt like my paws were going to fall off, and then we had fighting practice! He tossed me from one end of the training ground to the other and back again. I'm only glad I'll never have to face him in battle!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Redpaw trotted through the undergrowth, mentally retracing the boundaries in his head. The clearest markers between SmokeClan and RidgeClan was the pine tree that he had scarcely managed to leap into on his first outing as an apprentice (every cat referred to it simply as the West Pine) and the wildflower clearing near the north edge of the territory. Beyond Wildflower Field was the StormCircle, an area that had been struck perpetually barren by a lightning storm so long ago that no living cat remembered it. The StormCircle was where the four Clans, SmokeClan, RidgeClan, MoonClan, and DawnClan, met peacefully every full moon.

Continuing east of the StormCircle was the border between SmokeClan and DawnClan, which was a thick tangle of thorny hedge broken only by three massive oak trees that loomed so high above the forest that they could be seen from the SmokeClan camp. Of course, there were small breaks in the tangle of briars and bushes, but DawnClan was largely protected on that front. Redpaw leaped over a small fallen log and crouched to lap at the cold, clear stream, the frigid water chilling his throat as it slid down into his stomach. Falconstripe had sent him out to hunt on his own; Redpaw was nervous, even though his mentor had told him that this wasn't an assessment.

He smelled mouse and lifted his head, water dripping from his chin as he opened his mouth to scent the air. His ears swiveled to pinpoint the small creature's movements as it scuffled beneath frost-lined leaves and he felt his muscles begin to bunch beneath his nearly-scarlet pelt in preparation to spring. Ever so carefully, ever so quietly, Redpaw placed one paw in front of the other as he crept forward belly fur brushing the ground.

The mouse never saw him coming as he leaped and landed, paws swiftly followed by teeth as he bit down into the mouse's neck before it could even squeak in alarm. Warm blood flowed over his tongue as he dropped the body, scraping leaves and chunks of cold ground over his catch to protect it from other predators. Redpaw sighed in satisfaction. Nothing felt as wonderful as a successful hunt. He moved on, jaws parted slightly to look for further prey. The mouse he had caught was the typical fur and bone bundle of leaf-bare, all the fat prey finally picked off by SmokeClan hunters, and would not even dent the hunger of a famished cat.

Redpaw detected the smell of badger and immediately tensed up, pressing himself low to the ground in case the massive black and white predator came lumbering out from the bushes. He sniffed again and his pounding heart was soothed as he realized the scent was at least two days old, silently chastising himself for his fear. One of Falconstripe's favorite sayings rang through his mind: _better cautious than dead._ He inhaled a third time, more deeply, and his mouth began to water as he caught the smell of rabbit. It was coming from a knoll of grass near the badger set that Redpaw saw at the base of a tree. The wind was in his favor and he prowled toward the clump of grass, tail tip twitching eagerly.

He was just about to pounce when something crashed behind him and instinct took over. Redpaw darted into the badger set, knowing that even the stale smell was enough to mask his own scent. The rabbit leaped from the knoll and bolted and, just peeking above the lip of dusty ground, he saw a massive gray shape hurtle after it, racing like silent lightning. One paw smacked the rabbit offbalance and another sent hooked claws scoring across its throat before it could scream. Redpaw recognized the broad, powerful shoulders of Heronflight, a kitless she-cat, as she stood calmly over the rabbit, looking down at it as its legs thrashed in the final spasms before death.

Why not finish it off quickly before the sounds of its kicking and dying struggles scared away all the prey between the tree and the StormCircle? Redpaw kneaded the ground with his paws until it dawned on him; Heronflight was taking a moment to congratulate herself on her swift and skillful catch. After all, it wasn't every cat that could keep pace with a rabbit!

"Heronflight!" He meowed, wriggling out of the set.

She whirled around, a bloody paw raised and ready to attack, but she set it down again when she saw who had called her name. "Hello, Redpaw," she replied evenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Falconstripe sent me out to hunt on my own," he said proudly, puffing out his chest. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Taking swimming lessons," she snorted. "Hunting, mouse-brain." Her whiskers twitched to show that her words weren't meant to be harsh.

"I saw you catch that rabbit," Redpaw meowed. "That was impressive!"

"Thank you," she answered courteously. "I was pleased with it as well."

Hence the pause for congratulation, Redpaw thought to himself, silently confirming his earlier thought.

"You should hunt somewhere else," Heronflight interrupted his musings. "I have this area covered."

Redpaw frowned. "But Falconstripe told me to hunt from Wildflower Field to the Split Rock, toward the DawnClan border!"

Heronflight shrugged her powerful shoulders. "Have it your way," she said, bending to pick up the rabbit in her jaws. With a flick of her tail she vanished into the undergrowth with only a rustle of leaves to show that she had been there at all.

Redpaw returned to the camp with his jaws full of prey, open so wide that his mouth was beginning to hurt.

"Well done!"

"What a catch!"

"You're shaping up into a fine hunter!"

Redpaw twitched his ears to show that he had heard the praise from his Clanmates, a proud flush warming his fur as he carried his massive load to the fresh-kill pile, overflowing from the small hollow where it was kept.

"Wow, you're _amazing_ at killing things," Coonpaw purred, trotting up to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Redpaw saw Buzzardstar give a start and stare at the two apprentices, but he figured that the leader was unused to so young a cat bringing in so much prey.

"Splendid," Falconstripe's deep meow sounded from behind him and Redpaw turned to see his mentor gazing down at him, quiet pride in his burning golden eyes. "Would you like to eat with the senior warriors?"

Redpaw's pelt tingled from nose to tail at being offered so high an honor and he nodded eagerly, the rubbery tail of a mouse flapping up and down with the motion of his head. Falconstripe gave a muffled purr of amusement and inclined his head invitingly. Redpaw dropped his catch in the fresh-kill pile, selected a squirrel for himself, and bounded after the dark brown tom. He angled his ears back respectfully as he walked toward the patch of lamb's-ear where the senior warriors and elders ate and commonly shared tongues.

"Well, well," purred Puddlepelt, a dappled gray queen. "Here comes the hero of the night!"

Redpaw dropped his squirrel and shuffled his paws modestly. "I'm not a hero," he mewed bashfully. "I just listen for the prey."

"You've really got a treasure in your apprentice," chuckled Whitetail. He stretched his paws before him luxuriously, yawning hugely before tucking into the mouse that lay in front of him. "I remember when Rivertail was under my training." He gave a rusty _mrrow_ of laughter. "What a pawful he was! Charging off every which way, shoving his nose into everything with a scent—the number of times he almost bit down on something poisonous must be greater than all the stars in Silverpelt!"

The elders laughed together, remembering days before Redpaw was even a kit.

"Newtflower was always too cautious," mewed Specklechest. "I felt like tearing my own tail off with frustration...oh, she let so much prey escape because she hesitated..."

Puddlepelt blinked warmly at Redpaw. "Yes, Falconstripe, you seem to be blessed with good fortune in apprentices," she said around a bite of chaffinch. "Redpaw has done very well."

"He has," agreed Falconstripe, brushing the tip of his tail down Redpaw's spine. The almost affectionate touch made the young cat's heart glow with pride—Falconstripe was anything but generous with praise after the first day of Redpaw's apprenticeship had passed.

"You've been an apprentice for a moon now?" Pinestorm yawned, beginning to wash his tabby paws with rhythmic strokes.

"Nearly two," Redpaw confessed. How fast the time had flown by!

"Your mother would be so proud of you," Puddlepelt mewed gently, ignoring the soft hiss of warning from Specklechest. Redpaw lowered his eyes as he always did when his parents were mentioned; Buzzardstar had found him when he was a kit, lost and mewling pitifully in the rain and pawing uselessly at the body of a cat mangled beyond recognition. A SmokeClan queen, Cardinalfoot, had gone missing a few dawns before, and it was the general opinion of the Clan that for some reason, she had sought privacy while kitting and had been fatally interrupted by a predator. How Redpaw survived unscathed was a mystery...

"Don't listen to that mouse-brain," Specklechest said to Redpaw, rasping her tongue affectionately over his ear. "The _Clan_ is proud of you, and that's what matters."

"Thank you," Redpaw meowed sincerely. He tore a piece of warm meat from the body of the squirrel, the flavor singing over his tongue. Prey always tasted better when he was enjoying it after a day well spent with training.

He listened to the elders and senior warriors converse, exchanging stories of wild apprentices and old feuds. "Do you remember when that horrible band of rogues brought that sickness?" Specklechest fretted, her tail tip twitching anxiously as she glanced at Falconstripe.

"How could I forget?" He mewed softly. "That same sickness took Ivyspot." Seeing Redpaw's look of confusion, he added in an undertone: "Ivyspot was my mother."

"She was a beauty," Pinestorm said ruefully, pausing in his wash. "A beauty and a good warrior." He blinked sympathetically at Falconstripe, who nodded.

"Enough talk of sad times," Puddlepelt meowed firmly, swallowing her bite of prey. "Redpaw! You should ask Buzzardstar if you can come to the Gathering tonight. This would be your first, yes?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Oh, you'll enjoy it," she purred warmly. "You could make all sorts of new friends there."

"Friends he may have to face in battle," Falconstripe growled, giving his apprentice a pointed glance. "It's not wise to form close bonds with the cats of the other Clans. That could lead to divided loyalties, and if _that_ happens..." He trailed off and even the inexperienced Redpaw didn't have to ask him to finish his sentence.

"I have Coonpaw," Redpaw pointed out, turning his head to look at where the gray and white she-cat was hungrily devouring the rabbit that Heronflight had brought in. "She's a wonderful friend!"

"Coonpaw is a promising young cat," Falconstripe conceded, then paused. "Most of the time." He glanced over to the apprentices' den, where Coonpaw had just tripped over her own paws and fallen on her face.

Redpaw's whiskers twitched in amusement and he looked at Puddlepelt as she opened her mouth again. "Yes, Falconstripe," she meowed, "but having friends in other Clans does not mean that you have to devote so much of your heart to them that you place a paw in their lives as well." She gave him a stern glance and to Redpaw's surprise Falconstripe looked away in submissive agreement. "Friends in other Clans means you know if there is a new threat or blessing in our small world, and besides, it's nice to have someone to sit with when the Gatherings get cold." She stretched her forelegs out in front of her and raised her hindquarters from the ground as she flexed her claws and toes.

Buzzardstar padded out from his den, whisker-tips drooping slightly as he leaped to the massive stump to address the cats. "I have decided who will go to the Gathering tonight," he announced, and cats all over the camp turned their heads hopefully. "Falconstripe, Stagpelt, Rabbitkick, Rivertail, Heronflight, Shadestripe, Blizzardpelt, and Rainshoulder."

"A party of all warriors?" Blizzardpelt meowed incredulously, blinking wide green eyes up at her leader. "Buzzardstar, that will look like we're bringing a fighting force to a time of peace!"

"I couldn't have said it better," Owlstream called out, emerging from his den. The silver medicine cat sat down next to the white she-cat and wrapped his tail over his front paws.

Buzzardstar gave his head a short and irritable shake, like a fly had flown into his ear. "Coonpaw and Redpaw will come as well," he almost-grumbled. "And I suppose we could bring an elder or two...Pinestorm, Specklechest." He abruptly turned and walked back into his den.

"Does he seem off to you?" Redpaw whispered to Falconstripe.

"Hush," his mentor scolded. "Don't criticize your leader."

Redpaw caught Coonpaw's eye from across the clearing and bowed his head respectfully to the older cats. "Thank you very much for letting me eat with you," he purred.

"It was delightful," Puddlepelt told him warmly.

Redpaw bowed his head again and trotted quickly to his friend, his tail held high in excitement. "Coonpaw! We're going to the Gathering!"

"I heard," she mewed, rolling her eyes and darting out a paw to bat at his ear. Redpaw dodged out of the way and pounced on her, flipping her onto her back. She drove her hind feet into his chest and launched him away from her, sending him sprawling on his side in the sand. He leaped upright before she could launch a counterattack and sat down, too excited to play.

"I can't wait," he meowed eagerly. "Can you?"

"Do you think I have bees in my brain?" Coonpaw challenged. "Of _course_ I'm excited!" She twitched her ears impatiently, casting a glance at the sky, and Redpaw knew that she shared his thought: will the sun _ever_ go down?

"Buzzardstar was behaving a little strangely," Redpaw said, changing the subject. "Do you think he _meant_ to include only warriors in the Gathering party?"

Coonpaw narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I don't know," she confessed after a moment had slipped by. "Maybe he just forgot."

"Forgot?" Redpaw scoffed. "As leader, he's supposed to be aware of these things!"

"Being a leader is hard!" Coonpaw countered. "He has a lot of cats to think about, after all."

"I suppose," Redpaw mewed dryly, licking his paw and swiping it two or three times over his ear. "What are you going to do at the Gathering?" Seeing her open her mouth with a no-doubt stinging retort, he coughed and clarified himself quickly. "I mean, are you going to try to make friends with the other Clans' apprentices, listen to what elders are saying, follow after the warriors..." He trailed off when her blue eyes cleared in understanding.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I suppose I'll try to do some of everything before the leaders start to talk." She sighed. "I wish my mother was coming," she added a bit wistfully, gazing across the clearing to where Fawnleap sat, her glorious mottled golden-brown pelt shining softly in the evening sunlight. Fawnleap was one of the most beautiful cats in the Clan, Redpaw thought privately. Her sun-dappled fur was broken only by the splash of white on her muzzle and left forepaw, but her beauty was subtly underscored by the hard lines of muscle accenting her slender body. This queen had known life as a warrior, that much was clear.

"I wish she was too," Redpaw said, giving Coonpaw's ear an affectionate swipe of his tongue, "but I suspect that Buzzardstar was hesitant to include her in the Gathering party because she's expecting kits." He stole another glance at the she-cat, noting the pregnant swell of her belly.

"I guess," Coonpaw mumbled.

"Cheer up," Redpaw told her. "There's going to be loads of other Gatherings that Fawnleap can come to with you. By then you might even have your warrior name!"

Coonpaw's eyes, as pure a sky blue as her mother's, glowed happily. "Do you think so?"

"I _know_ so," Redpaw replied confidently.

It seemed like all of leaf-bare had passed before darkness fell and the moon began to rise, casting a net of ghostly silver light over the forest. Falconstripe stood next to Redpaw, the solid brown fur of his body bleached nearly silver as he kneaded the ground with his black paws. "Keep quiet about life in our Clan," he told Redpaw in an undertone. "What we definitely do _not_ need is every other warrior, apprentice, and kit knowing our secrets!"

"Do we _have_ secrets, Falconstripe?" Redpaw asked innocently.

"Every Clan does."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The Gathering took place in the StormCircle with the leaders of the four Clans leaping gracefully onto the time-warped stump that rose nearly three fox-lengths up from the ground, the twisted wood flattening into a platform with a single branch pointing outward into the clearing like a condemning, witchy finger. Buzzardstar prowled through the slowly assembling cats, not even glancing at the warriors, queens, apprentices, and elders that milled around him before jumping onto the twisted, ashy tree.

Redpaw scarcely noticed his leader's strange behavior. He had never seen so many cats or smelled so many new things! He could feel Coonpaw's gray and white pelt brushing his own as the two stepped cautiously through the meowing throngs. "It almost seems like all four Clans are here," he heard her mew softly.

"They're not," he assured her.

"I know, mouse-brain." She glanced at him out of the corner of her bright blue eyes. "Oh, look! It's Specklebone!" She pointed excitedly with her tail to a sleek white queen with a lithe body covered in tiny brown spots nearly the rich brown of earth after a heavy rain. "Rivertail told me all about her," she went on eagerly, eyes round as the full moon that glowed serenely above. "He said that he thinks she's pretty."

"Rivertail would never betray his Clan by loving some other cat," Redpaw protested loyally, thinking of the gray tabby tom who was so devoted a warrior.

"I never said he would," Coonpaw sniffed. "He just thinks she's cute, is all..."

"Oh!" Redpaw exclaimed, distracted. "Look over there; it's DawnClan's leader!" He watched as the powerful yellow tom with a thick-furred, black-tipped tail. "Fieldstar, right?"

"Indeed," meowed a deep voice. The apprentices nearly jumped out of their fur in surprise as they whipped around to see a handsome ginger tom standing behind them, whiskers twitching in amusement. "This must be your first Gathering; I haven't seen you before."

"I'm Redpaw," Redpaw announced bravely, refusing to be cowed by the presence of the strange warrior. "Of SmokeClan," he mewed as an afterthought.

"I had guessed, given your scent," the tom said. "I am Cedarbreeze."

Not to be outdone, Coonpaw introduced herself quickly, drawing herself up to the fullest extent her small body could allow.

"A pleasure," Cedarbreeze said smoothly, dipping his head a little in respect.

"Cedarbreeze," growled a voice at Redpaw's shoulder. He looked up to see Falconstripe glaring at the ginger warrior through narrowed golden eyes, the black tip of his tail twitching back and forth.

"Falconstripe," drawled Cedarbreeze, his friendly demeanor instantly becoming cool as a leaf-fall wind. His eyes traveled slowly over the SmokeClan warrior's muscular body, taking in the black front paws and solid brown pelt. Without another word, he turned and slipped away, the tip of his tail disappearing into the crowd.

"What did you do that for?" Coonpaw asked reproachfully. "Cedarbreeze was nice!"

Falconstripe bared his teeth softly, looking after the ginger tom. "Trust me, Cedarbreeze is not a cat you want to associate with, especially when you haven't a hope of matching him in battle."

"But why?" Redpaw pressed, looking up at his mentor with wide eyes.

"This is hardly the place to discuss it," Falconstripe snorted, the fur on his neck bristling. "Make sure that you are always in sight of one of our warriors. Don't let the peace treaty fool you—no matter what StarClan says, there will _always_ be danger between the Clans." And with that, he turned and stalked off in the opposite direction.

"Your mentor," Coonpaw said with a matter-of-fact stare at Redpaw, "is a loony."

"He is not," Redpaw argued loyally. "But something must have happened between Falconstripe and Cedarbreeze...if there's one thing I've learned in my time as an apprentice, it's that even if Falconstripe is prickly as a hedgehog, he never genuinely hates anyone without a very good reason."

Coonpaw opened her mouth to say something in reply when a loud caterwaul rang out from the top of the twisted stump. Fieldstar of DawnClan stood surveying the assembled cats, his thick-furred body silhouetted majestically in the moonlight. "Let the Gathering begin," he rumbled, glancing back at the other leaders, clustered together on the stump; sitting so near together that their pelts brushed with the slightest breath of breeze to stir them. They nodded permission for him to speak first and so he did, voice ringing clearly over the clearing. "We've scented badger in DawnClan's territory, near the MoonClan border. Warriors of MoonClan, be vigilant; while we do not intend the badger to go into your territory, it may take that route." He bowed his head, his whiskers looking like threads of spider silk in the silver light that spilled through the trees. "We already lost one warrior to the beast: Stripedtail fell bravely defending her Clan."

A low wail of horror sounded eerily from a cat somewhere to Redpaw's left and he looked over to see a pale gray queen staring at Fieldstar in a state of numb disbelief.

Silentstar, a she-cat with silver fur so pale that she seemed to have descended from StarClan itself, took Fieldstar's place. "MoonClan thanks you for your warning, and we grieve for Stripedtail." Her wise blue eyes studied each and every cat positioned below her. "We bring glad tidings to this Gathering," she meowed clearly. "Palepelt and Fennelwhisker have both given birth to litters of three healthy kits." She paused to let the congratulatory calls die down before continuing. "In addition, we welcome a new warrior: Twistedroot." Redpaw just caught sight of a pale brown tom sitting with his head lowered modestly.

His heart bounded into his throat like a startled rabbit when Buzzardstar stepped forward, speaking unusually softly. "We have a new apprentice as well," he meowed, his eyes looking strange and unfocused. "Coonpaw, daughter of Fawnleap." He stepped back, seemingly done with his announcements.

Redpaw's fur prickled with indignation and before he knew what he was doing, he was on his paws, calling up to his leader: "Buzzardstar, I'm an apprentice too!"

Falconstripe hissed from behind him and Redpaw's ears flattened self-consciously when he heard the nervous laughter from around him; never before had a cat so young dared to interrupt a leader!

"Oh, yes," Buzzardstar said after a moment, staring at Redpaw like he couldn't quite remember who the young, almost-scarlet cat was. "And Redpaw, foundling apprentice."

Redpaw's hackles began to rise as they always did when other cats called him the 'foundling apprentice,' denying even the possibility that he was the son of Cardinalfoot. Falconstripe hissed into his ear. "Follow me, apprentice. We're leaving."

"But the Gathering isn't over," Redpaw protested, tearing his eyes from the twisted stump.

"That doesn't matter," Falconstripe growled. "Now let's go before I have to drag you away from here by the scruff of your scrawny neck, like the kit you behave as!"

Redpaw flattened his ears meekly and crept after his mentor, his belly fur brushing the frosty ground. He could feel himself burning with embarrassment as the eyes of nearly all other cats followed him, feeling like they were burning holes through his pelt.

As Falconstripe stalked away from the StormCircle, Redpaw dared to catch up with him. "Falconstripe, it's not my fault," he protested weakly. "Buzzardstar forgot me!"

"I know," Falconstripe hissed, his blazing golden eyes fixed straight ahead. "But that does not mean that you should have the gall to interrupt _your own leader_ during a Gathering! I've never been so mortified in my life."

An even deeper shame swelled up in Redpaw's downtrodden heart, like a current tugging him into the depths to drown him. "I...I'm sorry," he mewed weakly. "I hadn't thought that—"

"Exactly," Falconstripe snarled, at last turning to face his apprentice. The anger on his face made Redpaw's heart lurch sickly in his ribcage; he had never seen the brown warrior look so ferocious. Falconstripe's ears were flat against his head, his long fangs bared, his eyes narrowed to wrathful golden slits. "You didn't think," he hissed. "You didn't just embarrass me and Buzzardstar, you embarrassed your entire Clan! What do you think the other Clans will think of us knowing that we're lead by a cat who forgets who has become an apprentice and who hasn't?" He shoved his muzzle into Redpaw's terrified face. "You may very well have invited an attack on us by making our leader seem vulnerable. I hope you're happy with yourself!" He turned and stalked away through the shadowy bushes and long grass, leaving Redpaw shaking in the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Three days had passed since the Gathering and Redpaw had been getting sicker with nerves with every day that trudged by. Leaf-bare was growing stronger and the frost that coated the clearing every morning was thicker with every dawn. Falconstripe was even curter than usual, snapping out the day's assignment and not saying another word until making the welcome announcement that it was time to return to the SmokeClan camp. Redpaw kept waiting for a punishment to fall on his head like a branch broken by a load of snow, growing more anxious with every day that Buzzardstar did not inform the Clan of the nearly-scarlet apprentice's fate.

"Redpaw," Coonpaw mewed on the fourth day as she returned from hunting patrol with Rivertail, her mentor, and warriors Mottlethroat and Ratclaw. "Buzzardstar wants to see you."

Redpaw's heart spasmed painfully in his chest, like it had been gripped by icy talons. "Where?"

"The training hollow," she said, flicking her ears nervously. "Do you think it's about the Gathering?"

"What else could it be?" Redpaw asked desolately, feeling like he was about to be sick. He crept toward the twin boulders of the camp entrance, his tail held low in submission. He caught Falconstripe's eye as he walked. His mentor gave a small, cold nod with eyes that said y _ou deserve what you get,_ and Redpaw's stomach twisted into a knot.

He padded, alone, out of the camp and into the stillness of the forest, which no longer seemed warm and welcoming. Enemies lurked behind every tree, under every bush, just waiting for him to draw near enough to catch and kill. His heart was racing uncontrollably by the time he arrived at the training hollow, the rocky ground frigid and hard beneath his paws. Buzzardstar sat in the middle of the empty space, his thick-furred tail wrapped over his front feet. An icy wind rattled through the bare branches of the trees and ruffled the leader's patchy tortoiseshell fur.

"Hello, Redpaw," Buzzardstar mewed in a voice so calm and casual that Redpaw found himself breathless with fear. "Come closer, won't you?"

Pressed so close to the ground that he was almost wriggling forward like a snake, Redpaw obeyed the order. His mouth was too dry to speak.

"Haughty little apprentice, thinks he's better than everyone else, doesn't he?" Buzzardstar said, half to himself, rising smoothly to his feet but remaining where he was. "Thought his leader was so scatterbrained that he forgot to mention the nasty little rat at the Gathering, yes?"

"No," Redpaw croaked. "No, it wasn't like that..."

Before he could say anything else the tortoiseshell tom flashed forward with astonishing speed, slamming into Redpaw and knocking him onto his side. His paws scrabbled vainly at the frigid ground as Buzzardstar's weight pinned him to the earth. "Mouse-brained apprentices must be taught a lesson!" He leaped off Redpaw and whirled back in with claws unsheathed, raking them across the young cat's chest. Redpaw gave a startled cry of pain and flailed to his feet, trying to run away from his leader, but before he could race more than a stride or two, needle-sharp teeth fastened into his tail and yanked him clear off his paws.

"You're not going anywhere," Buzzardstar hissed, and when Redpaw twisted to look at him his fear grew so great that he nearly fainted; Buzzardstar's pale eyes were completely insane, pupils reduced to wicked pinpricks of darkness in the great expanse of ice-blue iris. They were the eyes of a beast from a nightmare, not those that had glowed with quiet pride when Redpaw had been made an apprentice!

"Let me go!" Redpaw jumped again, but this time he threw himself toward the leader and slashed at him with his claws, catching them in the thick, patchy fur of Buzzardstar's shoulder. The older tom let go of his tail as he hissed in pain and Redpaw took off again. His paws seemed to fly over the frosty ground and he hardly noticed the razor pebbles that stabbed his pads because all that mattered was escaping Buzzardstar. He had nearly made it out of the training hollow when something crashed down on his back, flattening him and driving the breath from his lungs.

Buzzardstar hissed into his ear. "Stupid apprentice! Thinking you could outrun, outfight me? _Me_?" His hind claws raked Redpaw's back while a forepaw shoved his face into the ground to muffle his agonized cries. "I'll teach you to never make me look a fool in front of the other Clans again." Pain ripped through Redpaw again and again and he could feel the blood soaking into his fur as it seeped from the deep furrows scored into his thrashing body. It seemed an eternity before Buzzardstar finally stepped off him. Redpaw gasped for air, his nerves screaming in the distress of pain.

"Now," Buzzardstar meowed conversationally, as though he hadn't just clawed up one of his own Clanmates, "I am going to leave you here, and when one of the other warriors finds you, you are going to tell them that you were attacked by a hawk. And you will stick to that story, unless you want Coonpaw to be taken out for a little training session with me. Is that clear?"

Redpaw managed to nod through the haze of pain that clouded his vision.

Buzzardstar bent down and gently rasped his tongue over Redpaw's head like a mother soothing a fretful kit. "That's the right answer, little one." He stood up and the last thing that Redpaw saw before he passed out were the leader's mad eyes twinkling in amusement. "You know, the blood matches your fur."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Through a haze of semi-consciousness Redpaw heard a warrior give a wordless exclamation of shock, heard paws thudding over the rocky ground as his Clanmate raced to his side. A muzzle pushed lightly against his flank, checking to see if he was breathing, before teeth met carefully in the bloodied scruff of his neck and began to drag him over the ground as gently as could be managed.

When he woke fully, he was lying on his side in a nest in Owlstream's den, cobwebs coating his back and ribs like off-white snow. "Owlstream?" He murmured, forcing his heavy eyes to open.

The silver tabby tom was at his side in an instant, blue eyes soft as the clouds that wisped carelessly across the sky. "How are you feeling?"

"I hurt," Redpaw managed to say, resting his cheek against the side of the nest. His head weighed as much as a boulder; he hadn't even a hope of holding it up. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you would be able to tell us that," Owlstream said. "As for how you got to my den, Falconstripe was going out to hunt and found you lying in a pool of your own blood in the middle of the training hollow." He reached out with a paw to deftly adjust the cobwebs that swathed Redpaw's side. "He carried you back here and hasn't left your side...or at least not until Buzzardstar ordered him out for the sundown patrol."

The name of his leader sparked an icy fire of fear deep within his belly and Redpaw closed his eyes tightly, hoping it looked like he was in too much pain to keep them open. Buzzardstar had done this to him. Buzzardstar was the one who had held him down and clawed him more viciously than an enemy warrior; his own leader was the one who had torn open the apprentice's sides. Redpaw shivered as he remembered Buzzardstar's words: " _and you will stick to that story unless you want Coonpaw to have a little training session with me."_

He opened his eyes. "I was attacked," he whispered.

"By what?" Owlstream urged gently.

"By...a hawk." Redpaw couldn't look the medicine cat in the face, too ashamed at his lie, terrified at the memory of the insanity in Buzzardstar's eyes.

"Redpaw," Owlstream spoke up, his voice as gentle as a mother murmuring to her kit. "Hawks don't leave marks like this." He brushed his tail-tip along Redpaw's injuries. "No, little one," he went on, narrowing his eyes a fraction. "These were done by a cat. Who hurt you?"

"A hawk," Redpaw insisted.

"Redpaw?" Falconstripe's voice came from the entrance to the medicine cat's den and Redpaw craned his neck to see the dark brown tom's worried face framed by the setting sun.

"Falconstripe," Owlstream said. Was it his imagination, or did Owlstream sound relieved? "I'll leave you two," he meowed, and Redpaw wondered if his mentor had already asked to speak to him alone.

Falconstripe stepped somewhat awkwardly into the den as Owlstream slipped out. "How...how are you feeling?" Falconstripe asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"In pain," Redpaw told him, making a face.

"Redpaw, listen," Falconstripe said, shuffling his paws in the sand. "I wanted to apologize for...for my abhorrent behavior after the Gathering. You were right to be indignant when Buzzardstar forgot to mention your apprenticeship...and I was wrong to be so cold toward you in the days that followed, and now you're hurt..."

"'S okay," Redpaw mumbled. Had he been in better spirits he would have been amused by his mentor's awkwardness, and would have teased him about it. Wincing at the pain in his side, he stretched a paw forward and batted lightly at Falconstripe's tail to show that he wasn't upset. Falconstripe twitched it out of the way, his golden eyes softening. "Don't feel bad, okay?" He looked up into the brown tom's face. "If anything, it was the hawk's fault."

Falconstripe frowned. "Hawk? What hawk?"

"The...the hawk that attacked me," Redpaw mumbled.

"I've seen hawk injuries," Falconstripe told him quietly. "Those are injuries from a cat. Who was it?"

"Wasn't there a scent around me?"

"None that I could detect," Falconstripe meowed grimly. "Just the smell of your blood and fear. So don't even try telling me that you were attacked by a hawk. Besides, you're eight moons old; hawks only go for kits."

"I wasn't attacked by a hawk," Redpaw whispered.

Falconstripe touched Redpaw's ears with the black tip of his tail. "Who attacked you?"

Redpaw turned his face away in shame. "I can't tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"I..." Redpaw stammered. "I...I just can't. Please don't ask why..."

Falconstripe gave him a long look before he sighed. "Was it some cat outside SmokeClan?"

Redpaw didn't answer.

"Redpaw," Falconstripe meowed quietly. "Don't you want justice?"

Redpaw finally looked up into his mentor's eyes. "I can't tell you who did this to me," he said at last. "Please don't ask me to tell you why I can't...I just can't."

Falconstripe gave a heavy sigh and crouched on the floor of the medicine cat's den, lightly touching the tip of Redpaw's ear with his nose. "Very well," he conceded. "I won't continue to question you, but I think that you're making a mistake. If you change your mind, you can always tell me."

"Thank you," Redpaw said tiredly.

Owlstream's face appeared at the entrance of the den. "Buzzardstar wants to see Redpaw as well," he hissed quietly, glancing over his shoulder.

Redpaw froze in fear, every muscle in his exhausted young body tensing up. "B-Buzzardstar?" He whispered. "Why does Buzzardstar want to see me?"

"He's the Clan leader," Falconstripe meowed, looking down at him in confusion. "I'd _expect_ him to look in on any apprentice that's been injured, especially by another cat!" He rose smoothly to his feet, sand speckling the brown fur of his belly. "Thank you, Owlstream."

Owlstream nodded and stepped aside as Falconstripe slowly walked past him, tail held low. Redpaw wanted to yowl at his mentor to stay, to _please stay and don't leave me alone with Buzzardstar!_ But his jaws felt locked together and he couldn't even mewl in fear as the patchy-furred tortoiseshell appeared. His pale blue eyes, Redpaw noted in relief, showed none of the madness that they had in the training hollow, but that did little to assuage his terror as the leader sat down next to him. "Owlstream, where are you going?" Redpaw asked as the silver tabby tom turned away from the medicine den.

"I need to check on Fawnleap," he told Redpaw, pausing as he saw the apprentice's wide eyes. "Don't worry, you'll be perfectly safe with Buzzardstar."

And Redpaw was alone.

He slowly raised his eyes to his leader's face, his thundering heart threatening to break through his ribs.

"Why were you in the training hollow without your mentor?" Buzzardstar asked.

Redpaw stared at him in disbelief. "Because you summoned me there!" He was careful to keep his voice down lest any cat hear.

Buzzardstar frowned. "What are you talking about?"

" _You_ are the one who did this to me," Redpaw hissed, gesturing with his tail to his cobweb-covered sides. "You clawed me up and told me to tell any cat that asked that I was attacked by a hawk!"

Buzzardstar stared at him. "Redpaw, do you have any idea what you're saying!"

"Of course I do! Do you think that I would make a story like this up for attention?"

"No, I don't," Buzzardstar meowed, and Redpaw could see that he was forcing himself to remain calm. "But after lying out in the cold for so long, Owlstream told me that you developed a fever. It broke before you regained consciousness, but I do think that there's a possibility that what you think happened is all some bizarre dream. It wouldn't be the first time that an injured cat has had delusions."

"I'm not delusional!" Redpaw said desperately. "Buzzardstar, you know what happened! It's because of the Gathering!"

But Buzzardstar only looked more confused, his pale eyes the very picture of bafflement. "The Gathering went fine," he said, rising to his paws. "Redpaw, I think that you should get some more rest. It's entirely possible that the effects of the fever are lingering and confusing you." He touched Redpaw's head with the tip of his tail and turned, walking out of the medicine cat's den.

Redpaw stared after him, completely at a loss. Buzzardstar would have to be quite the actor to pull off such a state of puzzlement...was it possible that SmokeClan's leader really _didn't_ remember anything?


End file.
